


Letters to the Island

by yovodo



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Crushes ensue, F/F, Gen, Korrasami meets as young teens, Kyoshi Island, Kyoshi Warriors AU, Thanks to all my TikTok friends for allowing me to talk on and on abt my headcanons ;), also go easy on me plz English isn’t my first language, but if u see some whack language use feel free to slap some sense into me, might not be able to give away much but MY HEAD, plz talk to me & ask me questions abt the backstory i LOVE comments, shit happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yovodo/pseuds/yovodo
Summary: A lovely stranger becomes the newest addition toKorraNaga's life on Kyoshi Island.
Relationships: Asami Sato & Hiroshi Sato, Korra & Asami Sato, Korra/Asami Sato, Sokka/Suki (Avatar)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 116
Collections: Winter ATLA Femslash Week 2021





	1. New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lovely stranger becomes the newest addition to ~~Korra~~ Naga's life on Kyoshi Island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **\- 165 AG -**

Korra’s determined to not be happy.

Yes, the Kyoshi warriors are great fighters and Korra always need the tiniest bending assistance to beat the best of them; yes, compared to her former instructors from the white lotus, Suki and her warriors are practically saints of humor and fun; yes, she loves being on Kyoshi Island — she grew up on epic tales of the woman bending tectonic plates to her will and idolized her ever since.

She just hates not being herself. It is “necessary” and “for her own good”, mom and dad (and that one old man from the white lotus with a wiry goatee) drilled it into her before they put her on a ship away from the South Pole. She had to take up a new name (Naga; she had insisted since her best friend could not come along), adjust to life on a secluded island (doesn’t bother her much; the weather however does get a little too warm), and keep her head down (failing miserably on this one; though the warriors don’t seem to have much problem with individuality except when you try to customize the war paint — how in Vaatu’s unholy name do they get the eyeliner right every time?). 

At the heart of all of it — she hates hiding the fact that she is the Avatar incarnate. Bending came naturally to her, familiar like a sixth sense or a second set of limbs. When she fought without them for the first time she failed miserably by her own standard; she was able to hold her own against the slightly senior trainee but the disappointment she felt in herself was so immense she remembers it like it was yesterday. Combat training always felt a little unfair since then, like she has to make herself ... less for the world to handle her. It’s not right. 

Shaking free of the familiar discontent that threatens to boil over, Korra turned her mind back to the reconnaissance task at hand. From her vantage point on the treetop, the approaching vessel on the horizon nears at a decent pace. Soon her plan can be realized and all she needs is a bit of patience.

Since the news of a newcomer joining them hit the island a little over a week ago, Korra has been working on her escape plan. Kyoshi Island is self-sufficient and rarely gets visitors — the few visits nowadays are from either Sokka or Kysho, the warriors’ intelligence personnel in charge of connecting their active force with the base — and neither of these regulars would let Korra sneak away on a leaving ship. It’s certainly not for a lack of trying on Korra’s part: she once made it way out into the sea, but Sokka still somehow dug her out of the corner of his ship, played some Pai Sho with her, and dropped her right back into the laps of the (now very unhappy) women in war paint. 

A new visitor brings a new ship, therefore a new opportunity for escape; the intel she’s gathered from her prior missions should help her navigate the ship. It has been a busy day on the island with their usual duties and prep work to take in the new trainee, so fewer people seemed to pay Korra any mind. Korra has also been laying some groundwork of trust, placating everyone with a (near) complete lack of incidents this past week. Things seem to be working out for her once. This just might be the day Korra frees herself into the world.

Or so she believed until she slipped out of the tree to approach the boat that had docked. She watched with mild interest from her hidden vantage point as a slim shadow encased in a hooded cloak stepped out onto the deck, steps quiet. Gentle hands flipped the hood backward, and Korra forgot how to breathe.

Long, dark locks of hair poured out, cascading past green eyes, a delicate nose, smooth cheeks bright in the sun — her eyes speak of earth kingdom origin, yet something about her features screams fire nation to Korra. She seems about Korra’s age, though she is quite tall (taller than herself at least, Korra notes with a hint of jealousy). There’s a curiosity and air of gentleness to the girl, and Korra is suddenly hyper-aware of the flow of elements around her delicate steps. A fleeting strand of sadness brushed the back of Korra’s mind as she looked on, entranced.

A middle-aged man with knitted brows stepped out behind the girl. He rushed to shore and immediately began to converse in hushed tones with Suki and her second-in-command who had been waiting at the docks. Tearing her eyes away from the girl, Korra forced herself to assess this unexpected presence in an attempt to keep up her escape plan. The man has amber eyes that hold a hollowness in them; there are enough similarities in this man’s features for Korra to assert that he is probably the girl’s father, but what made Korra sure of their kinship was the sadness they shared — it practically poured out from the man in waves.

The hushed conversation ended as abruptly as it began. The man leaned down to wrap his daughter in a brief but tight embrace before turning swiftly on his heels. He rushed back to the ship without pause, as if a final glance at his own daughter would hold him in some inescapable trap. Korra herself couldn’t resist sneaking another look at the girl, who was doing a remarkable job of schooling her expression into a carefully neutral one with hints of melancholy leaking at the edges, though Korra quickly realized her window of opportunity is closing. It really is now or never.

Carefully making her way over to the pier, Korra was nearing the final stretch of land between her and freedom when Suki called out to her. Quite pointedly. “Naga! I was hoping you’d show up. I would like you to show Miss Sato around our humble island. You are very familiar with its geography after all - seeing that you were able to evade our attention all morning.”

Korra cringed. The tone of Suki’s voice made it apparent that her stealth operation this past week was as stealthy as an elephant koi dressed in fine silks walking on land in broad daylight. That also means the food rations she had gathered and hidden must have been depleted — warrior lesson whatever-number-it-was: cut off your opponents’ sustenance for a quick and swift end to a battle.

Head lowered in defeat, Korra turned away from her potential freedom to face the beautiful girl she just thoroughly embarrassed herself in front of. She can’t quite bring herself to meet those molten green eyes she only caught a glimpse of moments prior. Instead, she muttered “Naga. Nice to meet you” under her breath, staring stubbornly at the clasp of the Sato girl’s cloak. It’s silver and shaped like a little gear, (almost) as meticulously constructed as its wearer.

The girl chuckled. “That’s a nice name. Naga. My name’s Asami.” Her voice is smooth and earnest, like marbles hitting tiled floor. Korra felt compelled to look up. The Sato girl — Asami, she has a name now — held a small smile in the corners of her mouth and eyes. Korra felt a mirroring smile creep into her features, but made very little attempt to stop it. She held her emerald gaze, comfortable in silence, utterly out of words to say to continue the conversation.

Suki cleared her throat. “Feel free to go along, girls. We will have your belongings sent to your quarters,” she nodded at Asami. “You will be sharing a room with Naga over here. Not much of a talker, this one; shouldn’t trouble you much.” With a mischievous nod in Korra’s direction, Suki walked off with her second, who was openly smirking. It took all of Korra’s self-restraint to not try and trip them both with a little earthbending.

“So… that was that. I’m not mute, I do talk — not that there’s anything wrong with being mute; but I talk. Not too much though.” Korra blurted out. She could feel the blush burning up from her neck. Excellent.

“That’s wonderful. I would love to learn more about the island if you’d like to offer a little tour of the grounds,” Asami seems unfazed by her jumbled confession, her small smile unwavering. “It’s really an honor to be on Avatar Kyoshi’s island, to be among her warriors. I’ve always admired her.”

“Right??? She’s the coolest! Just, powerful and tall, dropping enemies of peace like flies, war fans in hand — they are WAY heavy. Do you want to see her shrine?” Korra gestured wildly, temporary lapse of bashfulness all but forgotten; sometimes a shared appreciation for Avatar Kyoshi’s just what it takes.

They spent most of the day touring the island, not once interrupted. They even managed to sneak a touch of Avatar Kyoshi’s revered gilded fans (the senior traineeon watch duty today was either generous or negligent enough to turn a blind eye). Korra found herself melting in the Sato girl’s presence, like the weeping ice walls during those brief summers back home. She’d almost willingly talked more to this stranger who stepped off an unmarked boat earlier today than to any of her fellow trainees during her entire stay on the island. Thoughts of home brought back the familiar unrest in her chest, something an open grin from the other girl seems to quell. The air of sadness around the raven-haired girl dissipated little by little throughout the day; now, sitting on sand, sunset reflecting in her eyes, her presence feels cool and calming like the small green pond Korra sneaks off to often.

“Thank you, Naga. I can’t wait to start training tomorrow.” Asami said quietly, tracing random figures into the sand. 

“Depends on what we’re doing tomorrow. Sometimes it’s real boring. Poetry and maths and stuff.” Korra made a face. “Tomorrow should be combat training though.”

“Hey, math is cool.” Asami’s smile turned a little sad. “It’s one of my favorite subjects in school, but I’ve not been to school for a while.”

Korra didn’t want to probe; but she felt a strange eagerness to erase the traces of melancholy that seeped into Asami’s voice. “...what happened?”

“My mom passed. Dad turned a little … overprotective; boarding school didn’t seem safe enough.” Asami gave a little pause before continuing. “Not many real friends to be made in that school anyway.”

“Hey, you’re with us now. You have me.” Korra blurted out before she could stop herself. Great. Divulging your intention before you’ve had a chance to ponder it. Another warrior lesson she totally threw out. “I don’t have many friends either.” That does not help.

“Well I don’t see why that would be. Being your friend sounds wonderful, Naga.” Somehow her blunt confession managed to give a small smile back to Asami. Korra mentally muttered a thanks to Kyoshi.

That evening, lying under the covers, waiting for sleep to sweep her away, Korra turned to face the bed on the opposite side of the room. Asami seemed to also be awake, dark hair cascading down her pillow like spillt ink, shimmering in dim light. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Korra said quietly. She hoped the sincerity carries over to the girl on the other side.

Asami was quiet for some time before she answered. “I miss her.” She muttered; Korra strained to hear her suddenly small voice. “I miss my family before … all of this. Dad is keeping something from me, sending me here. I don’t want to worry him, but I know I’m not just here for self-defense lessons. I hope he would talk to me.”

Korra was struck by a jumble of emotions at the earnest confession. All the familiar ache of being forced away from her home — and the most important part of her identity — by some smoke-and-mirrors threat no one wanted her to learn about came flooding back, rippling behind her rib cage. Now that ache is accompanied by a twinge of guilt that she cannot reciprocate Asami’s vulnerability with similar honesty.

“I miss my family too.” Korra ended up replying simply. A blanket of silence fell upon the room; not a particularly uncomfortable one. Sleep came over the new friends not soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dreaming about a Korrasami Kyoshi Warriors AU since I saw
>
>> [ ](https://www.instagram.com/p/CC6Pw63lke5/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading)   
>  [ View this post on Instagram ](https://www.instagram.com/p/CC6Pw63lke5/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading)
>> 
>> [A post shared by Getawaystickss (@getawaystickss)](https://www.instagram.com/p/CC6Pw63lke5/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading)  
> 
> 
> this amazing piece by Getawaystickss.
> 
> I was working on another version of it before I had the idea of young Korra training with the _**Kyoshi Warriors**_ instead of only cooped up with the White Lotus her entire childhood/teenage years. She would fare so much better emotionally ~~and probably hand-to-hand combat wise~~ imo. _Can you tell how much I do not appreciate the White Lotus yet?_
> 
> We also deserved more Kyoshi Warriors in LoK so I am giving them a significant presence amongst the nations and all the screen time. 
> 
> This would've likely stayed another idea in my head that never sees light if not for a TikTok live. The enthusiastic response from the chat to the idea pitch was so thrilling I felt the need to write. I only hope my words do not disappoint. A million thanks to everyone for entrusting me with this vision; cannot wait to write more.
> 
> The name Kysho came from @Ima._.clown_ on TikTok. Thank you to everyone who gave name suggestions! They’ll pop up :)


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami reacquaints with a lost face from her past on Kyoshi Island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **\- 170 AG -**

The evening is full of surprises — mostly unwanted ones.

The company of the brash firebender is pleasant enough. Despite the unfortunate circumstance of their meeting (and how quick she was to invite him for dinner out of all the wrong reasons), Asami found herself relieved at the prospect of avoiding suggestive conversations about her love life. It is a small, temporary mercy, but a fortune afforded to her nonetheless.

… since everything else seems to be getting on her last nerve tonight.

She allowed herself a small sigh. Mako did not seem to notice, his own smile straining against the endless social frivolities. Neither the socialite nor the rising pro-bending star was on their game tonight.

Between the exchange of pleasantries and stolen bites of appetizers, Asami frowned a little at how increasingly scattered Mako’s attention seemed to become as the evening went on. He’s distracted; whenever he deemed that no one would notice, his eyes would wander to the grand entrance of the hall, looking for something. Or someone. She found herself to be more intrigued than anything else.

The goal of this evening of gathering had been vague, perhaps intentionally so. Tarrlok’s invitation was quite sudden, even for the fast-paced social scene of Republic City; the diverse, buzzing crowd (all influential members of high society) gathered at such short notice speaks to the councilman's sway. It was difficult for father to refuse such a request without sending a message of disharmony — as much as he quietly despised the councilman. How pronounced his attitude toward the councilman has become alarms Asami, though she is (rather painfully) aware of his well-concealed … distaste for benders and bureaucrats.

She wonders absently if the new addition to the Fire Ferrets, the Avatar herself, was whom Mako (and most of the room) was silently holding their breath in anticipation for. If she were truthful enough with herself, her own intrigue with the water tribe girl was no less than the rest of the room; hell, the entire city -- all four nations even. After the whole ordeal with Red Lotus, its disgraced older brother, White Lotus, shelved the Avatar _for training_. The world was on the edge of forgetting they have this master of four elements until her rather ... _eventful_ reintroduction to Republic City. 

_What a power move on Tarrlok’s part to have the Avatar’s first introduction to high society be his gathering_ , Asami considered. _If this girl decides to show herself at all_. 

Almost as if on cue, the crowd’s attention condensed to a point; a deep blue one. The Avatar has made her entrance. 

Asami was in no hurry; between Mako, now linking arms with her, and the Sato estate as the new sponsor of the Fire Ferrets, she will have a chance of the Avatar’s attention. _Let your enemy come to you_ ; a warrior code came to mind. The Avatar is by no means her enemy, but the teaching still stands. Quiet patience is the only weapon one’s allowed to carry in diplomacy.

Mako did not share her patience. The pair started to make their way through crowds, drawing ever closer to councilman Tarrlok, her father, and the woman of the hour, pulled like metal to a magnet through sludge.

The crowd reluctantly parts, allowing Asami a full view of the Avatar, clad in a traditional water tribe inspired dress. She cuts quite the awe-inspiring figure with her back turned, years of training written clearly in athletic lines of her figure. Father seems to be speaking now, having been introduced by Tarrlok, or so Asami assumes; the wolf tails in the Avatar’s dark hair wavered with her nods of acknowledgment.

“...and here’s my daughter, Asami.” She finally came face to face with the blurry figure in the few pictures she saw, printed on the pages of the even fewer publications lucky enough to have the privilege of photographing the matches. A part of Asami’s mind faintly registered the irony: now the main backer of the fire ferrets, close acquaintance of their team captain, having only seen perhaps the most improbable asset to any pro-bending team in blurry photographs. 

Black and white did Korra little justice. The darker hues in her dress brought out the ocean of her eyes. Asami saw her surprise reflected in _blues_ she had looked into many times over, now seemingly a lifetime ago. 

Asami is struck by how clearly she remembers. Everything in glorious detail, painted with colors so rich it hurts to recall. The green of leaves and Warrior garbs. The red of paint on the tip of a brush, leaving marks behind as it slithers past smiling eyes. The blue of the sky and ocean and _those eyes_ she convinced herself were a part of a dream.

Somehow her tongue’s not caught like her heart is. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Avatar Korra. I’ve heard so much about you from Mako.” She even managed a diplomatic smile, lightly tapping her hand on Mako’s arm linked in hers.

A slight look of disbelief flashed across the Avatar’s features, though quickly tamped down. _We were taught how to mask expressions for negotiations_ , Asami thought with a hint of malice, startling herself with the emotion, _though she must’ve forgotten all about it. Like she did much else._

“... thanks?” Everyone around them likely read the waver in Korra’s voice as bitterness, considering the buzz around the Avatar’s supposed “chemistry” with her pro-bending team captain. “Mako didn’t say anything about … you.” She refused to focus her eyes on Asami’s face; her line of sight settled somewhere between Asami’s chin and the delicate golden amulet she wore around her neck, before turning away hurriedly as if chastised by Asami’s mere existence.

“She crashed into him on her moped! Romantic and a _little_ bit dangerous.” Bolin exclaimed cheerfully, jumping out of nowhere. Asami forced her expression to remain neutral as Mako (with the occasional input from an overexcited Bolin) explained to Korra their newfound chance at the pro-bending tournament, more animated than he has been the entire evening. Asami herself found her attention transfixed on the Avatar as well, but for entirely different reasons. She did not miss the glances the blue-eyed girl stole at her.

 _Poor Mako_ , Asami thought absentmindedly as she read the tells of the Avatar’s mind starting to drift. _Zero luck with attention from the opposite sex tonight_. She could tell the girl is eager but hesitant to strike up a conversation with her — to demand some answers or an explanation perhaps. Lin Beifong, chief of police, happened to pass by right then, and Tarrlok wasted no time in re-engaging the Avatar’s attention. Asami was grateful for the interruption as she bore witness to the little face-off between the two benders; she would not have known what answers to give this foreign but familiar character from her past.

* * *

The unfortunate evening concluded much like how it began: with Asami in the back seat of a satomobile, looking out of the window as a headache threatened to overwhelm her. The diplomatic distance between her and Mako remained, and she is in even less of a mood to change it than at the start of this evening. She is so utterly exhausted with pretenses tonight; she allowed her mask to drift. _Plenty of time to pick it back up tomorrow._

The Avatar had choked up, figuratively, putting the final nail in the coffin-like circumstance she entered into upon her return to Republic City. She bit off more responsibility than she could chew: Tarrlok baited her into giving a promise of support exactly how he wanted her to. Asami grimaced at the thought of this powerful but utterly clueless girl being tossed right in the thick of bender/non-bender dispute, not to mention as a very reluctant addition to Tarrlok’s suspicious task force, but a little spiteful part of her laughed on in delight. _Now you get to feel abandoned, like sheep thrown to wolves. Like what I had to learn to cope with._

Once they reached their destination, Asami pointedly missed Mako’s start at a good-night conversation and swiftly retreated to her wing of the mansion. She started her nighttime routine, allowing muscle memory of the familiar motions to take control, only too eager to drown out the revelation tonight.

Sound of footsteps closed in as she swiped off the last remnants of red pigment on her lips using ointment from an unmarked bowl. Suppressing a sigh, she stood up and turned to greet Hiroshi as he stepped through her door.

“Dad, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Even half a decade later, Hiroshi Sato seemed surprised every time Asami stood tall in anticipation of his unannounced arrival. He’d always wear a look of pride and a hint of fear -- as if he no longer understands who she’d become; as if he did not expect this outcome when he sent her off to the island. Yasuko’s passing and the tumultuous year that followed was a time neither father nor daughter liked to bring up, though it certainly turned the tide of both their fortunes. She left Asami with a keen longing for tenderness, and seemed to have left Hiroshi with nothing but an ever-growing disdain for bender bureaucracy.

Hiroshi is disappointed by Asami’s amicable attitude towards benders, she knows. They do not often discuss this, avoiding the topic like a plague, but Asami honestly preferred the freezing silence. How would she even begin to explain that she was holding on to a secret entrusted to her by someone who had not even cared enough to reach out? Useless sentimentalities, is all.

“Then there are some shipment numbers I would like you to help me look over tonight; they are urgent and simply cannot wait until the morning.” He ended up replying curtly. They looked at each other in a moment of sudden silence, and Hiroshi’s maroon gaze softened. For a moment, he looked familiar to Asami again, a tired, heartbroken man whom the world has been heedlessly unkind to. He looked ready to give in, to set their differences aside, to embrace his little girl; he clicked his heels and turned to leave before he could have done so.

Asami sighed. She wandered to her study and sank back, letting the plush velvet of the chair break her fall. The window in front of her desk overlooked Republic City in its familiar glory, buzzing with life, blissfully free from the brewing turmoil. Fate had played a cruel trick — in exchange for the many nights and days a younger her spent in this very seat, biting back tears as she poured her heart out, little by little into pages upon pages, until almost none of herself remained. Her companion from the island, the warrior in training whom she pleaded for a word from had been replaced by the master of all four elements, who, for all she knew, wanted nothing to do with her after embracing the whole “being the Avatar” thing.

 _The time on Kyoshi Island was a fever dream_ , a younger Asami had decided to convince herself so before she stopped writing letters. _I’d be better off if I forget,_ the Asami now thought with blind conviction, tears threatening to spill forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, sincerest apologies to start: for the lack of update in the 4 months that passed. I know school is no excuse, but school indeed has been brutal. I can't promise when the next chapter will be; I'll work on it and let's see where we get. :)  
>   
> Additionally, each chapter now has a year code for clarity! _BG_ and _AG_ , similar to _BC_ and _AD_ in our world, are year labels based on important historical event: for the Avatar Universe the Air Nomad genocide, and for us the birth of Christ.  
>   
> Again, feedback and questions are more than welcomed! _~~please feel free to yell at me abt how shitty this is~~_  
>   
>  As always, dearest thanks to my lovely friend Ava for editing; happy birthday to you!


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